


Troubled Thoughts and the Self Esteem to Match

by comefeedtherainn



Category: Fallout 3
Genre: Drabble Collection, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-04
Updated: 2018-12-03
Packaged: 2019-09-06 21:19:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 420
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16840615
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/comefeedtherainn/pseuds/comefeedtherainn
Summary: A collection of Butch/m!sole drabbles, mostly from tumblr ask memes. In no particular order :D





	Troubled Thoughts and the Self Esteem to Match

It was hard to know what to say, when a valley full of bloody knuckles and bruising kisses lay between them.

Butch watched Oliver quietly, the rickety apartment around them silent, save for the soft white noise of a bustling Megaton outside of the door. Ollie sat on the couch, the old coffee table serving as a barrier between them, as Butch stood awkwardly, hands shoved into his jeans.

The Pip Boy strapped to Oliver’s wrist and his warm brown eyes were the only things Butch recognized. His hair was scruffy and below his ears, now, his once clear skin now scarred and dirty. He was less soft, more sinewy muscle and hard edges. Butch couldn’t find that stupid smirk that used to piss him off when they were kids; now the corners of his mouth were pulled down and they stayed there, as if weighted.

“You shouldn’t have come out here,” Oliver murmured, not looking at him. “You should have just stayed home.”

“Yeah, well, I did,” Butch snorted quietly, bristling just a bit. “Sorry to disappoint.”

Ollie glared at him, and that was better. Much better than the despondent, lost look. Butch would rather have the ire than nothing at all.

“Don’t be an asshole, Butch.”

“Look,, the vault wasn’t home anymore, anyway. You know that,” Butch pointed out. “You saw what a shithole it was. Even with Amata in charge, we had to leave.”

Ollie huffed, looking away from him, glaring at the wall.

“Sorry you can’t avoid me anymore,” Butch drawled, crossing his arms over his chest.

“I hate you.”

“You’re full of shit.”

Ollie clenched his jaw, then sighed heavily and flopped against the back of the couch. “Yep.”

Butch snorted, taking the less defensive posture to be as close to an invite as he was gonna get. He crossed the space between them, and sat beside Oliver, leaving a little bit of space but not much. They’d spent way too long pretending they didn’t want to touch each other.

“Glad I found you,” Butch admitted, completely avoiding his eyes and his face burning a bit. “Someone’s gotta make sure you don’t get your scrawny ass beat. Not by anyone but me, anyway.”

A shove on his arm, but it was playful, only hard enough to jostle him a bit. He grinned, meeting Oliver’s eyes and finding that he was grinning, too.

“Yeah,” Ollie agreed eventually, nodding slowly. “One rule, though.”

“Okay…?”

“If we run together, you are _not_ wearing that fucking Tunnel Snakes jacket.”


End file.
